Power Addict

“Pete,” Morgan asked over ice cream several days later, “Do you ever get the feeling that there is something to that past life regression thing?”

“I thought you believed in past lives,” Peter’s mouth went to a drip of his vanilla cone. They sat on the back porch of Morgan’s Parent’s house, watching the rain fall from the security of the overhang. Dinner this evening consisted of a crying three-year-old, her quarreling parents, the mother’s quarreling parents, and the mother’s brother who attempted to hold a conversation with his best friend amidst the chaos. It was one of the best meals Peter had ever had. He’d remarked that Morgan should consider becoming a Zen monk. Morgan had just smiled and commented that the robes would do nothing for his figure. Peter didn’t actually mind when Morgan’s parents fought. Unlike the snide comments his parents made when they fought, there was always the underlying sense of love. They fought because they loved each other too much not to say what was on their minds.

“I dunno, I thought I did, then I though I didn’t and I guess I’m going back to believing they exist.”

“What brought this around?” Peter scratched his newly grown wing. Morgan and Wendy had tried to reverse the spell again. But all they had accomplished was the feathers growing longer and Peter sprouting wings. Wendy had cooed over them. Morgan had stifled a laugh. Peter was at his wits end.

“I had the weirdest dream last night,” Morgan said thoughtfully taking a nibble of his chocolate cherry swirl, “I was dancing before a small crowd of men. One I knew was my brother, one was my lover.”

Peter was ready to believe anything. “Were you a man or woman?”

“I was a woman,” Morgan closed his eyes as the unoccupied hand went to his waist, “The dress I was wearing was really tight around here,” the hand moved up to his chest, “up to here. But that’s how it was supposed to be. I was wearing one of the most beautiful dresses in the house’s collection.”

“Hmm,” Thought Peter, “Maybe there is something to the whole ‘past life’ thing. You’ve remembered a lot from that dream.” He looked up at the slowing rain. It was the day before the first night of the full moon. Wendy wanted to try once more to reverse the effects of the spell on the new moon. Peter never thought that he would be so happy for the dark moon in his life. His boss was probably happy about Peter calling and saying that he would be taking a few weeks “personal time”.

“So, I couldn’t help but notice the way you acted around Wendy,” Morgan piped up again. Peter looked at his friend like he’d gone senile.

“Eh?” He asked.

Morgan shrugged and did that thing where he strokes his non-existent beard, “Nothing. I just could help but notice that you seem to be warming up to her a lot more.”

“She’s just a woman who is helping me with a big problem. It was her fault to begin with. She may be nice, but she’s insane.”

“Did you ever think to find out why?” Morgan’s hand stayed on his chin.

“What do you mean ‘why’? I don’t care why.”

“I’ve been thinking,” Morgan looked at his friend in all seriousness, “Maybe the reason all to counter spells and antidotes and all aren’t working because they’re not supposed to.”

Peter tilted his head to the side, “Meaning?”

“Meaning, maybe you should talk to Wendy about her life. What her childhood was like, talk about growing up in what you so affectionately refer to as the battle field.”

“Why would I want to do that?” Peter Asked.

“Why have you never had a lasting relationship?” Morgan retorted. His friend was silent. Morgan continued, “I think the reason why, is because you don’t want them to get too close. Maybe if you talk to Wendy, you can see that there isn’t anything to be afraid of.”

“Says the man with loving parents and a doting sister.” Peter rolled his eyes.

They pair were quiet again, allowing the night air to settle between them.

“Never Never land,” Morgan finally said thoughtfully.

“What?” Peter looked at him.

“Peter doesn’t want to grow up, but can’t help but like the mothering Wendy.”

“Wendy is not mothering me.” Peter interjected as the lump of ice took hold of his stomach.

“No? She’s taking her valuable time to help you figure out and solve your PTB problem. I can only think of one other person who would do something like that.”

“PTB?”

“Powers That Be,” Morgan clarified. “All you need are a few pirates and some lost boys and you’ll have a fairy tale.”

“What about Tinkerbelle?” Peter asked.
“You’ve already got one fairy, do you really need another?” Morgan asked completely dead pan.

“You know, I’m sorry I asked.” Peter sighed.

“As you should be,” Morgan gave a sagely nod.